


we try too hard, it's a waste of our time

by violetholdsme



Series: Sunflower Stories 🌻 [3]
Category: Pentagon (Korea Band)
Genre: Best Friends, Childhood Friends, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Movie Nights, Platonic Relationships, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, i love the sunflower trio uwu, no angst again i cant believe myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:02:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28792866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetholdsme/pseuds/violetholdsme
Summary: The three of them were their own, and they were not a business of anyone else’s. They’d been through hell and back, love and loss and love again, and when it came down to itーthey’d always have each other.
Relationships: Yan An & Yeo Changgu | Yeo One & Yang Hongseok, Yan An/Yeo Changgu | Yeo One
Series: Sunflower Stories 🌻 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1909450
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	we try too hard, it's a waste of our time

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this for dylan and juli because i've been down lately and they've been my source of joy. there's not much that's the same about us and the sunflower trio except that there are three of us and i love them very much, but still :')
> 
> also, i missed this au a lot. so here is a very self-indulgent fic about it. this has major spoilers for [sunflowers (and other pretty things)](https://twitter.com/violetholdsme/status/1274617536202412032?s=20), so just a heads up if you're planning to read that one!
> 
> (title and inspiration for this fic are from the song "fucking perfect" by p!nk)

_Don’t they ever make you wonder if you’re settling for second place?_

The thought lingers around in Hongseok’s head, jumping across synapses as if it’s a child pumped full of sugar, and it echoes in no one’s particular voice any more than it’s a layering of different sentiments on top of each other. It’s a question Hongseok’s been asked quite too oftenーmuch, _much_ too oftenーwhether it’s genuine or passive-aggressive or a precedent to unsolicited advice. It’s not much his place to tell anyone off, lest having to explain something that isn’t even particularly explainableーnot really. Not unless you were him, or the object of the question itself.

He exhales the thought away, a soundless accompaniment to his long sigh. Fuck it all to hell, reallyー _second place_ wasn’t a thing, and most certainly not around here. Not with the three of them all together, laughing and smiling and pretending they were _stuck_ with each other in Changgu and Yanan’s apartment instead of there by their own will, if only to spare themselves the grandeur of such affection. Hongseok would die for these two, but he would admit it to anyone but them. Really, sometimes, he forgets that rule, but it never quite leaves any cause for regret, anyway. Yes, fuck it all to hell.

Because, save him, there are times like this when Changgu and Yanan are bickering on the couch over what movie to watch, and Hongseok is quite so amused by their antics that he thinks to himself, _these two idiots could write their own comedy instead,_ as if it hasn’t kind of been what he’d grown up watching his whole life. They had always acted so much like an old married couple, and sometimes Hongseok forgets that they’re _exactly_ that _,_ now. (Minus the _old_ part, for now, but _still_ ). He can’t help that he looks at them with such fondnessーhis two best friends as in love as they ever wereーand he can’t help that that’s enough for him to excuse that Changgu was supposed to be helping him prepare snacks right now instead of making puppy-dog eyes at his husband. Never mind that Hongseok kind of wanted to watch Yanan’s movie, while the Chinese man seemed very much on the verge of giving in.

“Changgu, are you going to put this popcorn in your _fancy_ microwave or are we all supposed to starve?”

It’s both meant for their amusement and also Hongseok’s last attempt at getting his best friend over to the kitchen, instead of anywhere near the remote that controlled their Netflix. But if he was being honestー _really_ honestーhe always had a flair for the dramatic, anyway, and the threat was empty because he already had bowls of non-popcorn snacks ready in front of him. 

“Drama queen. Give it to me.” Changgu got up from the couch and walked over to snatch the microwave popcorn out of Hongseok’s hand, before looking back to his husband on the couch with a pointed gaze. “Don’t think I’m done with you, yet.”

Hongseok hears Yanan’s defeated laugh and thinks he ought to be doing the same, really. Changgu had all the power in this house, had the both of them wrapped around his little finger since forever. Hongseok knows that he and Yanan would be hard pressed to believe that they were going to watch a plotless action movie tonight simply because Changgu’s dramas were outnumbered, but he knows that neither of them would really mind.

They love each other equally. They do. That love exists in very, very different ways but it’s perfect for them nonethelessーit’s none of the bullshit that Hongseok hears when people ask him the same question over and over again. It’s gotten easy to tune out all the ones who tell him that _friends don’t come in threes_ , no, because _love triangles_ and _love affairs_ come in threes and it’s _very obvious that when it comes to_ you _three, Hongseok, you’re the_ thirdー

But _fuck it all to hell_. The three of them were their own, and they were not a business of anyone else’s. Hongseok knew them all quite well enough to understand what everyone had only ever looked at the surface of. He knows he’s not second place. He knows it when Changgu and Yanan look at each other, and then look at him. It had never been for anyone else to look at, anyway, and Hongseok hates it when people give him pity stares when they’re all together, even though he’s quite used to it. 

Hongseok doesn’t need anyone to tell him what Changgu and Yanan think of him. They always tell him themselves. Hongseok knows that they grew up together and it barely ever matters who met who first. They’d been through hell and back, love and loss and love again, and when it came down to it they’d always have each other. The _three_ of them, each other’s sunflowersーbecause again, Changgu had them both wrapped around his finger and they weren’t quite allowed a peep about how _cheesy_ that name was. But they had grown to get used to it, be quite fond of it, even, just as they had with the kind of relationship they shared. More _never-too-far_ than _always-so-close,_ if that even made sense, though Hongseok is quite adamant that it doesn’t have to make sense, as long as they all understand. 

So, _no_ , Hongseok thinks. _I’m not settling for second place._ They were too far past labels and the world’s other bullshit to really care about it in the long run. They were, in each other’s eyes, just _them_ , and it was enough. There were no barriers between the three of them except for the ones put there by anyone who was bored, and at the same moment had _eyes_. So, Hongseok cherishes these timesーwhen it’s just the three of them, flowing naturally along with how gracefully the world had intertwined their lives. It’s peaceful and free of judgment, yet they are a collective arbiter of chaos all the same.

They _do_ end up watching the drama Changgu insisted on. He pouted when he burned the popcorn.

* * *

_Isn’t it unfair for the three of you?_

Yanan recalls it mindlessly when he’s spacing out watching the movie. There’s burnt popcorn between his fingers that he stopped on the halfway point to his mouth, so he puts it back in the bowl instead. Changgu is laying his head on Hongseok’s shoulder, leaning into his best friend while he’s so obviously trying to hold back tears. Yanan almost scoffs at the thought that made its way into his head, smiling lightly as he took in the sight. Goddamnー _unfair._ People could have such audacity to call it _unfair_.

He’s always found it stupid, really, and maybe a tad bit immature. He could excuse those times in university when Hyunggu would nudge and point at Yanan whenever Changgu and Hongseok got _a little too lovey dovey_ (Hyunggu’s words), but the rest after that and beyond seemed quite excessive. It was part of some weird relationship culture, perhaps. Yanan doesn’t really know where he fits into that culture, or where any of the three of them do, for that matter. Because sometimes he even thinks it’s hysterical how much _jealousy_ plays a role in the typical workings of romance. That he should keep Changgu away from his best friend because of some history, keep a firm hand on his waist as if he actually felt threatened. Or whatever bullshit. It was simply such a tired game.

Then again, they were never typical. Maybe Yanan simply doesn’t understand what’s _typical,_ because he’s known from the start that Changgu and Hongseok had known each other forever, and he knew to respect it. He knew not to hinder it, just as how Hongseok had learned not to hinder him and Changgu falling in love (however much _slower_ he may have learned), just as how Changgu had always pushed the two of them closer together until they realized they were doing it on their own. No, Yanan doesn’t believe it’s unfair. He trusts Changgu too much and Hongseok just the same, and he doesn’t understand why people deem their relationship _unfair_ whenever they aren’t keeping up appearances.

Perhaps some people simply don’t know what it is to trust someone with all they have, just as Yanan and Changgu and Hongseok had always trusted each other. Maybe there are times when the three of them are out and about instead of alone together in Yanan and Changgu’s apartment, still not quite used to the lingering eyes that wandered on them now that Hongseok was dating Jinho, who was _quite_ a public figure. Maybe it kind of bothered them all, when people headlined those weird, _stalker-y_ articles with letters in big print saying _THIRD WHEEL_ and directing it right at Hongseok like they thought that they knew him. That they knew them all. 

Yanan can’t blame them, maybe. People so rarely ever understand, and perhaps it’s because love like that, _trust like theirs_ , only so rarely ever occurred in this world, whatever string of adjectives one would use to describe it. 

It’s worth it all, really. Because when Yanan turns his head to look at the pair of them again, his husband looks happy. He’s leaning into Hongseok and Yanan is only happy that Changgu feels safe with him, that they both do, and always have. Yanan’s always refused to give into that _jealous boyfriend_ archetype people always tried to push on himー _j_ _ealous husband,_ now, evenーit never suited him. It was never much to his liking, anyway.

“Ya, Changgu, don’t tell me you’re gonna cry, _you_ wanted to watch this shitー”

“Shut up,” Changgu cut him off. “Don’t act like you’re not about to cry, too.”

Yanan looks towards the pair of them, laughing lightly without saying a word. Sure enough, Hongseok’s nose is all red and his eyes are puffy and he looks stupid, and Changgu has his fists balled up and peeking out of his sweater sleeves under his eyes to soak up the tears. Yanan wants to take a picture, but they looked much too into the drama for him to spoil the moment now, and he can’t even be sorry about not being able to watch that weird action movie they were arguing about earlier in the evening. They were always a sight to soothe tired eyesーhis best friends, the ones he had always looked towards for light. The ones that had been through fuck all with him, gave him refuge when he was guilty of a hundred crimes, and then stayed. It’s not _unfair_ ーno, never in a million years. It’s only love. Love, and all the things it could do when it was unconditional, true. Real.

When the credits roll, Yanan throws a piece of popcorn at the pair of best friends on the other couch. They yell at him through sniffles, still full of energy even though it was nearing midnight. Yanan was sort of crying, tooーhe could admit that, at the very least. Sometime in the future maybe he’ll admit it was less about the drama and how it ended, and more about how happy he was when he was thinking of them, and how they never would.

* * *

_How did you choose?_

Changgu wants to punch people when they ask him that. But he keeps it to himself.

It’s a fucking stupid question to askーexcuse the language, but maybe he acts like a bit of a bitch when he’s tired and sleepy and just finished watching the saddest drama on the face of Netflix with his two best friends.

Who are, by the way, still throwing bits of the popcorn he (mildly) burned at each other, laughing and trying to restrain themselves from going from bits of it to whole fistfuls, probably because they knew Changgu was watching and knew what was good for them.

“I’m not cleaning this up, Yananie.”

Yanan raises his hands in defeat and walks over to him where he’s still sulking on the couch. He looks playfully at Hongseok, something of a ceasefire, before leaning down over Changgu still with a hint of mischief in his voice.

“Don’t worry, Bao,” Yanan says, a kiss pressed into his husband’s temple, “I don’t expect you to.”

If the kiss was meant to be an advanced get-out-of-jail-free card, then _damn,_ Changgu knows in his weak, weak heart that it worked, because next thing he knows Yanan is flicking another bit of popcorn straight into the back of Hongseok’s neck while he’s not looking, and the chaos once more ensues just as fast as it had dissipated.

One would think it was difficult, then, for Changgu to have to live this way with his husband and his best friend. But _how_ ーChanggu always thought to himselfー _how could it be difficult to be loved by these two people just as real, just as perfectly, and just as_ much _as I love them?_

Because what the hell did it mean to have to _choose?_ It was much too tiring to be told all his life that in _love_ there was only room for one, even though he had already been giving his heart to every single person who had the pleasure or misfortune of ever seeing his face. Changgu knew that he loved easily, trusted easily, and sometimes he wondered if maybe the life of someone spoken for, much less _married_ , would ever really be for him. He gave pieces of his heart to everyone, he wouldn’t have enough left when time came to give it all.

But eventually Yanan and Hongseok are cleaning up the popcorn they made a mess of on the floor, laughing and speaking to each other with fondness disguised as teasing and nagging, and Changgu realizes all over again the same thing he had already realized millions of times before. When it came down to it, yesーmaybe Changgu _did_ give pieces of his heart away much too easily. No one really ever understood it, except for these two boys he grew up with, who always understood far more than they let on. They knew that Changgu could never give either of them, nor anyone else, his whole heart. Changgu gave them each a piece just as small as the ones he gave everyone else. The difference was that they never expected more, never wanted a bigger slice of the metaphorical cake that was Changgu’s heart or some shit. They took what they were given, and cherished it because it was _theirs_. Because Changgu had given those pieces to _them,_ and no one else.

There’s a joke of a debate about who gets to carry him to bed. Hongseok and Yanan make jokes about doing it together, two limbs each, and Changgu has half a mind to mumble incoherently about it as he’s dozing off on the couch but nothing more than that. Then Hongseok and Yanan are laughing, mischievous and somehow still affectionate at the same time, and Changgu’s heart flutters at the wonderful sound as they settle and Hongseok bids his goodnight. If they wanted to take a photo of him half-asleep, now would probably have been their best chance. Because he wouldn’t have stopped them for the world; he wanted to keep hearing them happy, keep hearing them forever.

Hongseok ruffles his hair as a goodbye, and Changgu can tell even though his eyes are closed that he had done the same to Yanan, judging by his husband’s protests. 

_Fuck it if I ever had to choose,_ Changgu thinks.

At the end of the day, Hongseok would always be his best friend, the boy he grew up with, the one who taught him things about love that he never thought he’d come to know. 

Yanan was the one he came home to, a pair of lips he could savor in the sweetness of, someone who would always come back to him even from worlds away.

Whenever he was with the both of them, Changgu never felt like he had to measure up. He was only just himself, it was more than enough, and they were all their own kinds of imperfect or fucked up. They loved it through and through.

When Changgu hears the sound of Hongseok leaving, shutting the front door behind him while Yanan shuffles back towards the couch he’s almost fully asleep on, he knows that he understands the three of them perfectly. There are dishes in the sink and the TV’s still on and there are pieces of popcorn on the floor and always pieces of them that they carry around, safe in each other’s hearts without fail. 

Yanan carries Changgu to bed even though he’s awake enough to walk there himself. Changgu can see his surroundings better when Yanan turns on the bedside lamp, and then moves to lay down beside him, pressing warmth against his side.

There’s a portrait of three sunflowers somewhere on their bedroom wall, and Changgu knows exactly why he painted them the way they didーlooking to each other, even when there’s plenty of light.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave me a comment if you liked this or let's scream at each other on [twt](https://twitter.com/violetholdsme) :’))


End file.
